Spur-Of-The-Moment

Last Saturday I awoke, sliding into the hall, blinking at the bright light from outside. My mom cheerfully planted an idea in my sleepy mind.

“Lets drive north,” she said. “And visit some old friends if they’re around.”

And so my day sparked into action. Our goal was simply to have breakfast in Occidental, and anything else that fell into place... so be it.

I ended up driving most of the way. I think my mind has been emblazoned with the twists and turns of the road. Someday I hope to know it by heart. I used to, but back then I was in the back seat, staring out the window.

It was so wonderful to see Ariana. She’s one of the few friends I can be away from for years, but then as soon as we’re together… it’s like those absent years are pushed away.

There was one point, when I was driving down Coleman Valley Road when I was hit hard with a sweep of memories. I wish I had a camera, but it’s here in my memory, bright and new. I can’t believe I forgot such a sight. I used to see it all the time. It’s strange that it takes years away from a place to really remember the beauty that it has. It’s the same with people sometimes too. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. But I wish I could have kept that image with me, and never lost it.

I can see it now before my eyes. The thin winding road dives down the hill, on either side a wild shady green pasture. Suddenly the fencing drops away, connecting the grass and asphalt. Far in the distance is a wall of trees, and above them are the clouds, settled softly on the horizon. Then comes the mist, like spirits that creep and spill across the road. The chilled wind blows it on quickly. The road seems to open up, with the ocean out ahead. The sun is caught in the clouds, illuminating them from the inside. A white light radiates out, reflecting on the waves below, making them glow. Each wave gleams with stillness, not like water, but like ice.